


look at all the peace i've found.

by redhoods



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Moving In Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 13:44:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18572674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhoods/pseuds/redhoods
Summary: Caleb stares at him for several beats then turns his gaze, seeming to notice the pile that he’d created in the corner, “When did you sneak those in?”“While you were exploring the garden,”  he answers and lifts one of the boxes up onto the table, pulling it open so Caleb can see inside, “I, uh, used to cook a lot. Vandran said I should cook for you now.”Pressing their shoulders together, Caleb hums quietly, “I did not know that.”





	look at all the peace i've found.

**Author's Note:**

> the fandom could use some soft fluffy stuff. and grey said fjord cooking for caleb and... this is where my mind went with it.
> 
> i'm just... soft for these men who deserve so much.
> 
> title is from gratitude by benjamin francis leftwich.

“I think you have more books than everything else we own combined,” Fjord calls out as he carries the last of the boxes into the house. Both of them are labeled ‘books’ in Caleb’s neat handwriting and he adds them to the others on the far wall of the main room.

There aren’t any bookcases, but he’s got plans for once they get settled.

Caleb emerges from down the hall and he’s down even more clothing now, nothing but his trousers on, and Fjord takes him in with a slow sweep of his gaze, feeling triumphant when Caleb flushes red down his throat. “Ja, you might be right,” Caleb finally says, then clears his throat, “I have been making a list of the things we will need.”

Fjord nods and uses the ends of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, “I don’t think I’ve ever thought about how much goes into having a house,” and lowers his shirt to find Caleb’s eyes dipped down.

“We have no towels,” Caleb declares suddenly and turns away, walking into the kitchen, “And I realized, we have nothing for the kitchen.”

Scratching at the side of his head where the hair is getting a little too long, he trails Caleb into the kitchen, “We do actually,” he admits, ducking his head under the surprised glance Caleb shoots him, “Uh, Vandran brought us some boxes.”

Caleb stares at him for several beats then turns his gaze, seeming to notice the pile that he’d created in the corner, “When did you sneak those in?”

“While you were exploring the garden,” he answers and lifts one of the boxes up onto the table, pulling it open so Caleb can see inside, “I, uh, used to cook a lot. Vandran said I should cook for you now.”

Pressing their shoulders together, Caleb hums quietly, “I did not know that.”

Fjord swallows thickly, emotion caught in his throat as well as maybe a little bit of guilt for not sharing, “I haven’t since...”

“The boat,” Caleb nods and stops his examination of the contents of the box, some pots and pans and utensils, “If you don’t wish to -”

“- no, I do,” Fjord cuts him off, sliding his arm around Caleb’s middle, resting his chin on Caleb’s bare shoulder, “I’m not sure if I’ll be any good at it anymore, but I think it’ll be good for me to try.” It’s time, he thinks to himself.

“What’s for dinner then, Captain?”

Fjord rumbles a laugh and bites playfully at Caleb’s shoulder, before dragging his nose over the line of his shoulder and up the line of his throat, “Careful or I’ll just have you for dinner.”

Caleb laughs, this low rasping sound that Fjord loves, “Oh no, how terrible would that be,” he replies, his voice bone dry until Fjord drags his claws over his ribs, making him dissolve into more laughter. He nearly takes a head to the nose for it, but it’s worth the way Caleb melts back against his chest when he stops, palms flat over Caleb’s ribs.

“Maybe I’ll finally be able to get some weight on you,” he says, pressing a kiss to the crown of Caleb’s head.

Caleb hums quietly, “You can try.”

Fjord hums back at him, though it breaks into a sort of purr unintentionally, “Got nothing but time to do just that.”

“That you do.”

Frumpkin bumps against his leg and Fjord glances down, watching the cat twine around both of their legs, “How do you two feel about fish for dinner?” He directs the question to Frumpkin, who ‘mrrp’s at him and then wanders off.

They both watch him go and Fjord snorts a quiet laugh when Frumpkin stops suddenly and sprawls in one of the patches of sunlight coming through one the windows of the main room, “Are we sure he’s actually a fey?”

Caleb shrugs, “I have had my doubts,” and then turns in his arms so they’re chest to chest, “Should we walk to the market, get some fresh food?”

Fjord slides his hands down to squeeze Caleb’s hips, “Sure, need to make myself friendly with the locals.”

A quick press of lips to the corner of his mouth and then Caleb is slipping away, “I’m sure they’ll all be very charmed.”

Fjord swats at his ass and then starts to unpack the box while Caleb redresses.

\----------

“You both better be decent!”

Caleb’s already out of his chair before Beau even finishes her sentence and Fjord’s glad there’s a wall separating the kitchen from the main room so no one can see the fond smile he’s sporting.

There’s a lot of squealing and shouting and so many voices from the direction of their front door and his heart feels very full, knowing that their family is all going to be under one roof for a little while at least. Footsteps come up behind him and he turns his head just in time to catch Beau about to swipe at his knees.

She smirks at him as she straightens, “Hey man, no welcome party from you?”

He laughs and jiggles the pan in front of him, tossing the vegetables around, “Didn’t want anything to burn.”

“Shit,” she leans over his arm to peer at what he’s doing, “Caleb wasn’t joking.” Then she turns towards the doorway separating out the kitchen, “Hey Jes! Caleb wasn’t lying about the cooking!”

There’s pounding footsteps and Fjord shakes his head as scoops up the pot of pasta off the fire before he overcooks it.

Jester appears, nearly running into the table in her excitement before she edges around it to come stick her face almost in the pot of vegetables, “Fjord!” She turns to him, eyes squinted as she crosses her arms, “Why didn’t you tell us you could cook!”

It’s not a question, but more of a demand.

He starts scooping pasta out of the water, dumping it into his sauce, “Nobody ever asked.”

She squints at him and he meets her gaze until she softens and bounces over, hugging him from behind, “It smells amazing,” she says into his back and squeezes until his spine cracks a few times, “You’re starting to creak like an old man,” she adds with a snicker and backs off before he can swing at her with his spoon.

Beau is watching them both from the side and he lifts an eyebrow at her until she flushes and looks away.

“Okay, well, I’m going to explore the garden with Caduceus!” Jester declares and then flounces off.

“Don’t trample my flowers!” Fjord calls over his shoulder and is only met by giggles.

When he turns back, Beau is watching him again.

He huffs, “Out with it.”

“You’re so domestic,” she bursts out, but it’s not disgusted like it might have been just a year ago, “Like really, man, all you need is a frilly apron.”

He points his spoon across the room and smirks down at the vegetables while she splutters a little. 

“The fuck is that?”

“A frilly apron,” he tips the pan of vegetables into one of the serving bowls, “It was a joke gift from one of the old women in the village. She’s the one that gave me a bunch of recipes to try.”

Beau snorts, “You really are a housewife, aren’t you?”

Fjord glances over his shoulder, but he can’t hear the others.

“I think they all went outside,” Beau tells him, voice low.

He nods and swallows, “Not yet, but soon, I hope,” he tells her, eyebrow raised at her. He can’t maintain it though, looking away with his cheeks hot as he stirs the pasta and sauce.

She’s quiet for a while and he realizes that’s because she’s disappeared from the room. It isn’t long before she returns as he’s slicing bread. “So, I wasn’t sure what you wanted really,” she says and she’s got several papers in her hand, “I found like five recipes.”

He puts the bread on the fire, only glancing over briefly, “I’ll take whatever you could find.” 

“Where should I put these?”

Pulling the bread off the fire with careful fingers, he lays it all out on a plate, “Tea cupboard,” he answers. When she doesn’t move and her gaze on the side of his face gets too heavy, he gestures over his shoulder to said cabinet, “Just tuck them in the back.”

She stares a while longer, even as he transfers dishes over to the table, “Doesn’t Caleb drink tea like every morning?” She asks suddenly, once she’s stopped staring him down.

He glances in her direction, watches where she shoves the papers, “I make it.”

“Gods, that’s disgusting,” she says as she shuts the cabinet, “I’m happy for you, man, but gross.”

“Come on,” Fjord says, purposefully putting the table between them as he lays down the plates, “We both know you sneak out before Jester wakes up some mornings to get her pastries.”

Beau scoffs once, twice, three times, before she laughs, “Fair.”

“How’s dinner coming?” Caleb’s voice comes from the opposite side of the house and Fjord still jumps like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be and ignores the way Beau snorts at him.

“It’s all done!” He calls back, “You guys didn’t eat all the berries, did you?”

Laughter filters back and he shakes his head.

\----------

Hands land on his shoulders then drag down his back before arms fit around his waist, “Thank you,” is muffled into his shirt between his shoulder blades.

Fjord smiles down at the cabbage he’s chopping, “You like them?”

“Ja, they are perfect,” Caleb doesn’t remove his face from where it’s pressed and Fjord is careful not to elbow him as he reaches for the other vegetables he’s got left to chop for their salad.

“Did you get all your books organized then?” He asks, like it hasn’t been over an hour since Caleb started putting his books on their shelves, muttering quietly to himself in the main room.

He feels Caleb nod and nudges back gently from the counter, scraping everything he’s chopped into the bowl with the dressing, “Were the shelves big enough?” That’d been his biggest concern when he’d started out, that there wouldn’t be enough space for Caleb’s entire collection.

“I’ll get plates,” Caleb tells him and he grabs a few glasses, taking those and the bowl to the table, “Ja, there’s even some room for more.”

A laugh bubbles up out of him, endlessly charmed by Caleb’s unyielding desire for more books, “Good, I was worried.” 

Caleb joins him at the table and he dishes out salad onto both of their plates, “How long have you been working on those?” He asks while Fjord pretends not to notice how he feeds Frumpkin a piece of shrimp under the table.

Fjord scratches his jaw and steals a strawberry from Caleb’s plate, happily taking the retaliatory kick to the shin, “About a month?” He twists his mouth up as he stares down at his own plate, “I had to clean out the workshop and make sure I had enough wood.”

The foot that had kicked him simply presses against his shin now, “You are endlessly impressive, Fjord.”

He hunches his shoulders a little, chin dipping towards his chest, before he breathes out slowly, “Thank you, love.”

“Good,” Caleb tells him, voice low, and when he glances up, Caleb’s eyes are dark and heavy on him. He shifts restlessly in his chair, grip tight around his fork. There’s a long pause, before Caleb points his own fork at their plates, “Finish your salad.”

Fjord swallows thickly and nods.

\----------

The front door opens as he’s taking the dish out of the oven and Fjord swears quietly to himself, placing it on the counter and nudging it back with the mitt. He covers it with one of the fancy cloches Jester brought them from her mama, then tosses the mitts out of the way.

“Fjord?” There’s rustling that he knows means Caleb is removing some of his layers and putting his bag on his desk, “It smells amazing in here.”

He self consciously brushes his shirt down then turns to make sure everything on the table looks good. It does, it has the last three times he’s looked at it, but he can’t shake his nerves. He feels like he’s done too much or not enough and the feeling wars inside him.

Sucking in a quiet breath, he channels Beau’s confidence and rolls his shoulders back, “I hope you’re hungry,” he calls back and is proud of the way his voice comes out, steady and strong.

He takes a page from Caleb’s book, gesturing through the air, words falling from his tongue easily, and lights the candle on the table, just as Caleb comes into view.

“Oh,” Caleb pauses in the doorway and Fjord worries a little, until he steps in closer, “Liebling, you did all this?”

Ducking his head, he lifts one shoulder, “Wanted to do something special.”

Caleb skirts around the table, coming right for him, “This certainly looks special,” he says, then presses up on his toes for a kiss that Fjord’s all too happy to oblige him on.

They part slowly and Fjord tugs Caleb’s chair out before sinking into his own, “I might have gone a little overboard,” he admits sheepishly, looking at the spread, “You’ll have a good lunch for tomorrow?” He offers.

“Ja, I look forward to making everyone jealous,” Caleb comments, grin sly, “The others have been asking when you’ll make pie again.”

He tilts his head, “Won’t be long before the peaches are ready.”

He lets Caleb dish out his own plate, before serving himself, and doesn’t miss Caleb’s quiet, contemplative gaze while they eat. There’s not much he can get by Caleb, so he doesn’t really try to. He simply steers the conversation, keeping them on safe topics, mostly about Caleb’s work, the kids he’s been working with.

“This was delicious, bärchen,” Caleb says, tone curious as Fjord clears their plates away, placing them down in the basin.

Fjord swallows as he carefully lifts the dessert up, “I’m not done yet,” he says, hand under the dish as he turns, “Will you clear some space?”

Caleb seems to sense his nerves, giving him only a briefly curious glance before he’s pushing their leftover dishes away to the edges of the table, “What have you made?”

“It’s a surprise,” he doesn’t mean Caleb’s gaze as he slides the dish down onto the table, nudging it back towards the middle more, “I hope you like it,” he adds. His voice trembles and he swallows again, rubbing his hands on his thighs as he sits down.

He reaches for the cloche and lifts it up, finally turning his gaze to Caleb.

Caleb’s eyes are wide as he takes in the dish and Fjord places the cloche down, tucking his knuckles to his mouth to stop from babbling out an explanation or apology. He can see the large inhale that Caleb takes, the way his exhale is shaky, “Fjord.”

It takes effort to move his hand, “Yeah?”

“This is kirschenmichel.”

“Yeah,” he says.

“How did you get this recipe?” Caleb’s tone is hard to parse.

He swallows, “Beau.”

Caleb nods and doesn’t say anything, so Fjord gets them bowls and spoons, dishing them each out a bowl, while praying that it’s good, that he didn’t mess up.

Sliding a bowl in front of Caleb, the hand the grabs his wrist catches him by surprise and he follows it up to Caleb’s face, “Cay?”

“Fjord,” Caleb’s voice is quiet, a little shaky, but he doesn’t sound upset per se, “I haven’t had this in...” he trails off, eyes distant. His thumb brushes back and forth over where Fjord’s pulse is pounding at his wrist and Fjord waits, stalled half leaning over the table, “My mother used to make this.”

“I hope I did it justice,” he says quietly, sinking into his chair, turning his hand to wrap his fingers around Caleb’s wrist in turn.

Caleb takes a quiet breath before releasing him, “I’m sure you did, bärchen.”

He doesn’t bother pretending like he’s not staring as Caleb takes his first bite, breath caught in his throat.

It feels like _years_ , before Caleb turns a smile in his direction, and Fjord exhales in a sudden rush of air. Caleb reaches out and links their fingers together on the table top, “It’s amazing, Fjord.”

“I’m glad,” he says quietly, “I wanted to do something special for you.”

Caleb squeezes his hand and goes back in for another bite and his relief might be palpable as he sinks a little in his chair and takes his own bite. It is good, Caleb hadn’t been lying, and Fjord thinks he’ll have to make this a little more often.

“How did you know to get this recipe?” Caleb asks, when his dessert is already half gone and Fjord has only taken a few bites of his own.

He smiles, nudging his leg against Caleb’s under the table, “I didn’t, honestly,” he admits, “I asked Beau for whatever she could get her hands on before they all came down to visit. This was one of a few.”

The narrow eyed, searching look he gets from Caleb makes him a little restless, before Caleb nods, “You’ll have to show me those.”

“I will.”

Caleb nudges his bowl back when he finishes his dessert, leaning back in his chair. He looks satisfied, pleased, and Fjord feels his own satisfaction deep down. “So is there an occasion for this?” And he should have known Caleb wouldn’t just let it slide.

He nudges his chair back a few inches from the table, tucking his hand into his pocket as he does so. Caleb notices, because of course he does, his eyebrow lifting in a nonverbal question. “There is an occasion,” he says, aiming for agreeable and landing closer to nervous. 

They’re here though and Fjord musters a smile as he slides down out of the chair, down onto one knee. relishing in Caleb’s quiet intake of breath.

“I had a speech and everything thought out,” he admits quietly, wrapping a hand around one of the chair legs and tugging Caleb’s chair in his direction, grinning when Caleb huffs a laugh at him. “There’s nothing I could say now that I haven’t told you hundreds of times over, so I’ll get to the point. Marry me, Cay?”

He leans against Caleb’s knees and uncurls his palm in Caleb’s direction, letting him see the ring.

Caleb’s touch is feather light as he traces the ring, just a simple gold band, nothing overstated. Then Caleb’s eyes meet his, smile soft and fond, cheeks a little pink, “Ja, I will marry you.”

Fjord smiles, fumbling a little to get the ring out of his own palm, so he can slide it onto Caleb’s finger. He might be shaking a little bit, nerves crashing down into relief, cheeks hurting from how hard he’s smiling. The ring slides home and he presses a kiss to Caleb’s knuckles, then draws him right off the chair and into his lap for a hug.

\----------

Caleb finds him in the kitchen.

He hasn’t even taken his boots off or his coat, hair still plastered to his forehead from the steady pouring rain outside. His hands aren’t quite shaking as he slices up some tomatoes, intent on making a sauce for no other reason than he’s got too much pent up inside him and doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Bärchen,” Caleb’s voice is quietly concerned and Fjord barely hears it.

Hands press to his lower back and he shudders out a breath, still slicing, more on instinct now.

“Fjord,” Caleb’s a little louder now, “Fjord. Stop!” 

The sudden shout takes him by surprise and the knife clatters out of his hand to the board.

Caleb moves him bodily, turning him around and he lets it happen, feeling half out of his own body, “You cut yourself,” Caleb tells him, voice hushed once more and he sees it then, doesn’t know how he’d missed it. 

He’s cut a large slice through his index finger and blood is welling up fast, “Oh.”

“Liebling,” Caleb says quietly, concern thick in his accent as he grabs a rag and wraps it around Fjord’s finger, “What were you trying to do?”

“Cook,” Fjord answers automatically, shuddering out a quiet breath, “I don’t know,” he adds, holding the rag to his finger when Caleb curls his hand around it. “Cooking takes a lot of my focus, so I don’t have to think so much,” he admits quietly.

Caleb’s fingers start on the buttons of his coat, nudging it off his shoulder. It takes a little maneuvering to get it over his hurt hand, “Let me,” Caleb says, then nudges him down into a chair, “I will be right back.”

He nods absently and isn’t aware of time passing at all when Caleb leaves and returns, a small bundle in his hands.

“Fjord.”

He blinks and focuses, realizing Caleb’s kneeling on the floor in front of his chair.

“I need you to breathe with me,” Caleb says and takes a pointed breath. then blows it out loudly. He keeps doing it until Fjord does it as well, matching him until they’re breathing in sync and the white noise in his head is a little less prominent.

Caleb pries the rag away from him, tossing it away, before he starts the process of bandaging up his finger. It’s a practiced process, even if it’s been a long while since they’ve had to do this. “There,” Caleb says quietly and then stands up.

Fjord latches onto him almost immediately, wrapping his arms around Caleb’s middle and drawing him in. Drawing in lungfuls of Caleb’s scent mixed with rainwater, he tries to pretend that his shoulders aren’t trembling, that his whole body isn’t. He realizes he’s crying and doesn’t know how long he’s been doing that for.

“It’s okay, liebling,” Caleb’s voice is soothing, methodical, as he murmurs quiet reassurances and platitudes, swerving into Zemnian and back. He doesn’t absorb most of it, doesn’t even really hear, but it helps either way.

At some point, he runs out of tears.

Long fingers run through his hair and gently tilt his head back and he meets Caleb’s concerned gaze, “Better now?”

He nods a swallows, nudging his face into Caleb’s hand with a quiet exhale, “Better.”

“Gut,” Caleb says and hooks hands under his arms, hauling him up out of the chair with a little effort on both of their parts. Once he’s up, he doesn’t hesitate to kiss Caleb, just a simple press of lips, before he eases back, feeling sheepish and rung out.

Flicking his gaze to the cutting board, he winces a bit, “Guess I’m not using tomatoes tonight.”

Caleb hums and steps away, scooping up the board, “We’ll find something else.”

“We?”

“Ja, it’s been a while since I helped you,” Caleb offers him a small smile, “There’s nothing else I’d rather do with my time tonight.”

\----------

There’s a sneeze from the direction of the couch and Fjord winces in sympathy.

He stirs the soup and then scoops out a bowl, “I’m coming, sweetheart!” He calls out, digging a spoon out of the drawer. Frumpkin twines around his ankles and then leads the way to the couch where Caleb’s been bundled up for going on three days.

The pile of blankets shifts around and then Caleb appears from the pile, nose red and hair a wild tangle, “Was?”

“I made soup,” he explains, placing the bowl down on the table and then starts the process of unburying Caleb, tossing some of the blankets to the side. He sinks onto the end of the couch and lifts an arm for Caleb to tuck up under.

Caleb snuffles and Fjord passes him the bowl of soup, before cupping his hand over Caleb’s forehead, trying to gauge if his temperature has gone down or not. The way Caleb quietly keens and presses into the touch tells him probably not.

He runs his fingers through Caleb’s hair, gently detangling, “Eat, it’ll help,” he urges softly.

“S’gut,” Caleb says after he’s eaten a little of the soup and narrowly avoids sneezing into his bowl.

“Tomorrow, I’ll run into town and see if Kari has something that’ll help you kick this,” he offers.

He’s not sure if the offer has even been heard, Caleb is quiet for so long, but Fjord realizes that he’s still eating. Pressing a kiss to the top of Caleb’s head, he keeps combing fingers through his hair, long after he’s finished eating and fallen asleep.

\----------

“Fjord!”

He glances up from where he’s been cutting strawberries with Caduceus to find Jester in the doorway with her hands on her hips. She harrumps and he puts the knife down and backs away from it slowly, “You’re not supposed to be in the kitchen!” She bursts suddenly.

Caduceus hums next to him, “He was nervous, I was giving him an outlet.”

Jester turns her narrowed gaze onto Caduceus, who is either unaware or very good at ignoring her, “He’s _not_ supposed to be in the kitchen,” she emphasizes and Fjord wishes he were that good at ignoring Jester.

Sighing, he edges around the table and crosses over to her, “Sorry, Jester, I just needed something to do,” he says and lets her haul him off by the arm.

“You have something to do,” she says determinedly, “Get ready for your wedding!”

“You’re right,” he allows and gets hip checked into the room, then because he can’t resist himself, “How’s Caleb look?”

Jester squeals and claps her hands excitedly, “You’ll have to wait and see!”

\----------

Hands slide around his middle, placing flat against his belly and Fjord breathes out quietly against them, “Morning, sweetheart.”

The answer comes in the form of a quiet hum, pressed into the space between his shoulder blades. 

He smiles, cupping his left hand over Caleb’s left, enjoying the gentle clink of their rings together. 

Mornings are always soft and quiet in their house and that’s mostly because Caleb is all but nonverbal before he’s had tea and Fjord’s always reticent to break up the calm. It’s set to be an extra lazy morning today, since Caleb doesn’t have to hurry himself off to work.

It’s not stopping him from making them breakfast, something more elaborate to indulge them on a day off.

“S’that cinnamon?” Caleb’s morning voice is scratchy but warm against his back.

“Making those rolls you and Jester love so much,” he answers, moving his hands back to the dough he’s been working. He kneads it a few more times before dumping it into a bowl, smiling at Caleb’s irritated huff when he has to lean away to grab a towel.

“You are my favorite.”

Fjord chuffs softly, draping the towel over the bowl and sliding it back on the counter to rest, “You’re my favorite too, Cay.” He turns in the circle of Caleb’s arms, draping his arms around Caleb’s back and nudging them in the direction of the couch, “Gotta let the dough rest for a bit.”

There’s no complaint from where Caleb’s face is mashed into his chest, so he tips the both of them over onto the couch, careful to keep elbows from landing anywhere important.

“Can you keep track of an hour for me, love?” He asks the top of Caleb’s head, gently running fingers through his hair.

Caleb hums his agreement, nuding up until his face is tucked against Fjord’s neck, “An hour.”

He nods and tucks a hand up under the sleep shirt that Caleb’s wearing, one that he thinks might’ve been his at some point, “Thank you.” 

Time trails a little and he almost misses when Frumpkin jumps up to join them, laughing quietly as he watches the cat turn in circles on the back of Caleb’s thighs before he settles down. It’s only a few seconds before Frumpkin starts purring, causing Caleb to muffle a laugh against his shoulder.

“Feel weird?”

“Nein,” Caleb says, sounding close to drifting off, “tickles a little.”

Fjord buffs a kiss against Caleb’s hair and it doesn’t take much for the rumbles in his own chest to start, deeper but not quite as loud as Frumpkin.

Caleb laughs again and nudges at his jaw, “Love you.”

“Love you too, Cay.”

“You’ve got twenty-three minutes.”

**Author's Note:**

> i have [twitter](https://twitter.com/red_hoodsy) and [tumblr](https://redhoods.tumblr.com).


End file.
